


although it's a long road back

by WhiteLadyoftheRing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Steggy Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteLadyoftheRing/pseuds/WhiteLadyoftheRing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Peggy exchange gifts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	although it's a long road back

**Author's Note:**

> Steggy Secret Santa gift for can-i-use-that-swear-word on Tumblr. Happy holidays, darling!

**_although it’s a long road back_ **

_(i promise you, i’ll be home for christmas)_

_December 24, 1943_

It's Christmas Eve and Steve returns, filthy and shaking snow from his back as he ducks into the command post. The commandos follow, shouting and laughing and already half-drunk, their chorus of slurred carols punctuated by at least a few exuberant _wahoo!_ s. They’ve just destroyed a Hydra base deep in the south of France, and somehow their exhaustion from just a few days prior is all but gone in the glow of the holidays – the scrawny but proud tree in the corner of the war room a reminder that even through war, hope lives on.

_"_ You're late."

 

He turns to find Peggy standing behind him, her hands planted firmly on her hips. (He thinks that - past the layer of annoyance at them returning nearly a week late – her expression is laced with concern). “Got lost,” he says innocently, tossing her a field compass, the casing cracked and the glass shattered past the point of readability.

 

A flicker of amusement glints in her eyes. “Well,” she says with mock-exasperation, “I suppose you got the boys home in time for the holiday. Let’s just hope we’ve got enough food to feed you brutes.”

 

“I doubt it, but it is the season of miracles.”

 

.

 

Steve doesn’t sleep.

 

Some days he wonders if it’s an effect of the serum – that with increased stamina comes a decreased need for rest.

 

(Or maybe the serum has only succeeded in enhancing his physical resilience, and that Captain America, like so many others, will be felled by wounds much deeper than that.)

 

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

 

He turns, abandoning his sketch of the outpost’s meager Christmas décor, to find Peggy standing in the doorway, still flawless in uniform despite the late hour. She slips into the chair beside him, dumping a bag of chocolates and a worn paperback onto the table.

 

“Waiting up for Santa,” Steve deadpans.

 

Peggy smiles, amused. “Hoping he’ll bring you a new shield this year?”

 

“Nah, I’ve grown pretty attached to this one.” He pats the shield leaning against his chair. “A new compass might do me more good. Wouldn’t want to be late again.”

 

“True,” she teases, “After all, there are only so many times I’ll be willing to tolerate your particular brand of tardiness. Luckily,” she pauses to rifle through her pockets, producing a shiny new compass, “it seems a little elf dropped this by earlier.”

 

Steve smiles, examining the exterior before popping it open to reveal a (thankfully unshattered) compass face – and a faded newspaper clipping pasted into the inside of the cover.

 

“I’m afraid I don’t make a habit of carrying around photographs of myself in the middle of a warzone,” Peggy says casually. “Fortunately, one of my schoolmates saw an article about me in the local paper and sent it my way.”

 

Steve swallows thickly, trying to deduce the meaning behind such a gift.

 

“Take care of this one,” she adds sternly. “I don’t plan on giving you another.”

 

“I will,” he says, closing the compass carefully before tucking it in his pocket. “Thank you.”

 

Peggy shrugs out of her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair before kicking her feet up on the table and popping a piece of chocolate into her mouth. “It’s just a compass,” she says, in a way that sounds like it’s anything but.

 

“Well, since I’ve gotten my present early, I suppose it’s only fair to return the favor.”

 

In France, when he’d stepped into the little boutique and stood dumbfounded until a salesclerk ad assisted him, he was still uncertain if such a gift – or any gift at all – was appropriate at this point of awkward not-dating around which they’ve been dancing. It had been an impulsive move, spurred by his sudden longing for her presence and Bucky’s incessant needling that ‘the best way to catch a dame is to treat her right’ (after which, he would specify that ‘treat her right’ meant dates, dinners and thoughtful gifts). Part of Steve believed Peggy was so unlike any other woman he’d ever met, that perhaps there would be a different pattern of courting he should follow; but another part of him realized that a woman constantly having to prove herself to be equally as strong and clever and capable as any man - a woman who is so often treated as ‘one of the boys’ in the field and office - might enjoy the normalcy of it all.

 

In the end, he’d decided they were co-workers – friends, at the very least – and a thoughtful present on Christmas didn’t need to be more than just that (unless she wanted it to be), especially when he knew she’d be worried and cross that they were already nearly a week late.

 

Like hers to him, it isn’t wrapped, and he pulls it out of his pack and hands it to her only a little uncertainly.

 

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he explains, “but I figured, if I was going to get held up in France for an extra week, I might as well bring a peace offering.”

 

“Trying to buy me off?” She runs her fingers over the black fabric, as if assessing its quality.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Hm, well, maybe it worked,” she says, arranging the beret on top of her head before leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek in gratitude. “This time.”

 

She models her new hat for him, turning her head so he can see it from every angle and he grins. “It suits you.”

 

(They spend the remainder of the night together, feet kicked up on the table, passing the bag of chocolates back and forth between them, in the glorious silence of a night free of air raid sirens and gunfire. And when Peggy drifts off with her head pillowed in her arms, Steve carefully drapes her jacket over her shoulders.)

 

(And for once, not feeling so alone, Steve falls into a deep sleep beside her, his head pillowed on his arms and his hand on hers.)


End file.
